


Ketchup

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ficlet, M/M, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 05:11:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16469399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Ignis takes Noctis and Prompto for fast food.





	Ketchup

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

The fast-food ‘restaurant’ is bright and reasonably slow, but all Ignis can think as he eyes the light-up board behind the counter is how there can’t be a single healthy thing in the entire building. He still can’t believe he’s allowing his prince to actually _eat_ here, even though he knows darn well that Noctis regularly orders out behind his back. If the king ever finds out and questions him, Ignis is going to have a hard time relaying his excuse: he, for once, miraculously _lost_ a game of King’s Knight, and thus had to pay up. Given how many times he’s used similar bets to get Noctis to dress up properly for events or get up on time, he could hardly back out on the rare occasion where the match just didn’t go his way. He’s still desperately hoping Noctis will order a salad, even though the picture on the menu looks just as nutritionally devoid as everything else. 

“Are you going to order anything?” Noctis asks him, to which Ignis shakes his head in obvious disgust. Rolling his eyes, Noctis mutters, “Then stop hovering.”

Ignis shoots one last imploring look at Prompto, because, most of the time, Prompto’s marginally better behaved. But Prompto’s been eerily quiet all evening, and he’s still looking at his shoes. Noctis takes a subtle step closer to him, then nods Ignis away. With a sigh of resignation, Ignis announces, “I’ll stop by the washroom.”

He leaves the ‘line’—which only comprises of an insular group of nattering teenage girls in front of Noctis taking eternity to order—and heads around the bright yellow corner of the building. A mounted sign points the way to the washroom, except that there are three white doors with no other markings on them. Ignis assumes them to be two washrooms and a janitor’s closet, but it would be nice to know which is which.

While he’s trying to make the determination for himself, he hears Noctis’ lowered voice ask, “Are you gonna get anything? If we ever get up there, of course...”

Prompto mumbles, “I’m fine.” A casually dressed man emerges from one of the doors, brushing past Ignis to leave. It tells him the most likely place to look, but the waver in Prompto’s voice keeps him from going anywhere. Prompto’s normally such a pleasant, cheerful person, but Ignis can tell that at the moment, he isn’t fine at all.

“We can drop by the hospital after...” Noctis is saying, and Ignis doesn’t have to be there to know Prompto’s tensing up. Ignis has only had to drive him there once, when he almost collapsed at school, but the poor thing looked as though the whole visit was more traumatizing than his hunger was. Prompto must have indicated his protest, because Noctis presses, “Well, you have to do _something_ ; you look like you’re about to fall over.”

“Noct... it’s not that simple...” Prompto mumbles. He adds something else, but one of the girls lets out a shrill laugh that swallows up the rest. Ignis waits for it to settle. He knows he shouldn’t be hanging around to listen. Hearing Prompto in these moments, when he’s so close to the edge, breaks Ignis’ heart. He hates how often Prompto will insist on going home alone, when they all know there’s no magical solution waiting at his apartment. Then Noctis says what Ignis is always thinking.

“Why don’t you have Ignis?”

“Wh—” Prompto splutters, then quickly lowers his voice, hissing, “Dude!” 

“What? He’ll do it if I tell him to.”

“But... you can’t just... I can’t...” 

While Prompto fumbles, Ignis freezes to the spot. The very idea makes his heart pound against his chest. It’s not like he hasn’t thought of it a hundred times. But it’s not like Noctis to loan him out to others like a piece of property. Which can only mean one thing: he’s far more transparent than he thought. Noctis _knows_.

That alone feels like a failure of his duties. His charge has clearly recognized how much he’s pining for Noctis’ own best friend. And it’s in a very specific, bizarre way. And the normal way, if Ignis is honest with himself, but he tries not to think about that. That would just be ridiculous. At least with easing Prompto’s hunger, he can pretend he’s doing some sort of necessary service...

“Just try it,” Noctis is saying now, voice quiet enough that Ignis has to practically flatten against the wall, just short of peering around it. “We can go get him in the washroom right now—I’ll tell him to let you... you know... and then I’ll leave and you can go to town on him.”

“ _Noct_ ,” Prompto answers, somewhere right between a frantic squeak and a horrified growl. “Are you _insane_?”

“C’mon, he’ll probably be great—he’s all healthy and shit...”

“He’s a _person_! And not just any person, he’s... he’s _Iggy_!”

“So? What’s wrong with my Iggy?”

Under normal circumstances, Ignis might laugh at the comment. Instead he forces himself to just remain calm and listen. “There’s nothing wrong with him...”

“What, you want someone cuter? Younger? I know he acts old, but he’s only, like, two years older than us...”

“No, he’s perfect! I mean, come on, he’s super hot and nice and you know I... I... Noct, I couldn’t hurt him...”

Ignis can feel his face heating. The word ‘hot’ echoes in his head. _Prompto thinks he’s hot._ He needs to stop hiding like some ashamed teenager with a crush. He needs to just go around the corner and explain that Noctis is just phrasing it poorly but completely has the right idea. 

He doesn’t move. Noctis is talking. “But you _want_ to, right?”

There’s an excruciatingly long pause before Prompto all but whispers, “Are you kidding? That’s _all_ I want.”

Noctis snorts, “Knew it. You people are so obvious.” And Ignis wants to burst out and scold him for his insensitivity. A sudden flurry of footsteps drowns out the rest of Noctis’ teasing—the bell over the front door dings, and Ignis thinks the girls have finally left. The next time Noctis talks, it’s to order pizza and fries. 

Prompto doesn’t order anything. Ignis doesn’t go to the washroom. He was only trying to give them space anyway. Now he’s glad he did. 

At least he’ll have until their order’s actually done to decide how to use his new information. Except that Noctis suddenly appears around the corner, Prompto right in tow, and almost walk right into him. 

Noctis stops just in time and doesn’t say anything about Ignis just _standing_ there. He asks, “What took you so long?”

Ignis opens his mouth. Prompto’s looking at his shoes again, though now his cheeks look flushed, while the rest of his body is almost sickly pale. Despite the well-defined muscle tone in his figure, highlighted in his biceps, he looks strangely small and almost _fragile_ in the moment. His lips are closed, so Ignis can’t see the subtle fangs that sharpen when he’s hungry. But Ignis has had a tantalizing peek once or twice, and the memory is burned into his mind. 

“Prompto.”

Prompto immediately looks up at him, all wide blue eyes tinged with little flecks of red shining through the contacts. Ignis thinks of the last time Prompto and Gladiolus stayed over for dinner, and Ignis had cooked an elaborate meal for all of them, only to watch Gladiolus and Noctis stuff their faces and know that Prompto couldn’t _truly_ be satisfied. It feels like a personal failure every time he’s able to take care of everyone around him except the one man who looks like he most needs it. 

A few different ways to say his piece run through Ignis’ mind, ranging from overly formal to inappropriately sensual, but somehow, the dumb almost-pun comes out first; he blurts: “Your order’s ready.”

Prompto just looks confused, while Noctis visibly holds in a laugh. Ignis tries to pay him no mind. Ignis reaches out to take Prompto’s hand, the one with an ever-present wristband below that hides two little puncture wounds. Ignis gently tugs Prompto back towards the washroom.

Noctis returns to get his food, Prompto lets himself be drawn into a stall, tentatively wraps his arms around Ignis’ neck, and collects his drink—and Ignis feels like he’s getting _dessert_.


End file.
